Wreck of the Day
by RussianWolf7
Summary: Scully is having a really bad day and Skinner tries to talk to her about it, but it doesn't really work. They get into an accident...


Disclaimer: They don't belong to me. They are Chris Carter's. But if you happen to see them lying around, I'd be glad to take them . . .

Spoilers: SR 816, but only in passing.

Pairing: Scully / Skinner

A/N: Okay, so maybe it's a little OOC. But I like it anyways.

The song is Wreck of the Day by Anna Nalick.

Skinner looked at disbelief at the paper on his desk. It wasn't all that unusual; every now and then he got a request for a new partner, and he usually complied. He knew what it was like to have a partner you didn't get along with. But never would he have thought that Agent Scully would ask for a transfer.

Skinner knew that Mulder and Scully had been fighting more than usual lately, but in the past few days, it seemed to have smoothed out. In fact, they seemed to be closer than before. Yet here was the paper on his desk, filled out in Scully's neat, precise handwriting.

Skinner glanced at the clock and sighed in relief at the time. He didn't have to worry about it today; in fact, he was already on overtime. So, instead of making a decision, he put his laptop back in his briefcase and left for the parking lot. It was while he was and putting his laptop in the trunk that he heard the quiet crying.

Skinner straightened up, and closed the trunk softly, trying to figure out where it was coming from. It seemed to be coming from down the row, but there was only one car and it was empty. It looked familiar, but Skinner couldn't place it. He walked over quietly, trying to get a view driver's seat. As he drew closer, it became obvious – Agent Scully was hunched over in the driver's seat, head resting on the steering wheel.

Skinner paused, then walked over to her window and tapped gently. Scully shot up in her seat, wiping her tears away as she rolled down the window.

"Are you okay?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"I'm fine," she said, refusing to look him in the eye.

"I find that difficult to believe, Agent Scully." Again, he paused. "Does this have something to do with your request for a transfer?"

Scully looked away and inclined her head the tiniest bit. Skinner took that to be a yes.

"Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"Mulder. Mulder happened." Scully said it so softly, he barely heard her.

"What do you mean?" Something suddenly occurred to him. "Did he hurt you?"

Scully glanced up, startled. "No, of course not. He would never hurt me."

"Then what did he do?"

She turned away from him and grabbed her purse. She rooted through it and finally pulled out a crumpled package of cigarettes.

"Y-you smoke?" Skinner asked, flabbergasted.

Scully shrugged. "Not usually. Every so often."

He let out a huge breath. None of this seemed real. He suddenly realized that he was still standing outside her car. "Could I get in?"

Scully paused, then nodded. She lit her cigarette and took a deep breath, collecting herself. Skinner slid in the passenger's seat, staring openly. She laughed.

"Don't look so surprised. Everybody has little habits that'll kill them one day."

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Cigarettes could only ever remind him of one person, and it wasn't the agent sitting next to him. "So why do you want a transfer? I can't say I saw it coming."

Scully sighed, took another puff and looked out the window. "I'll tell you if you come with me."

"Where are you going?" he asked as he buckled his seatbelt.

She shrugged. "I'm not sure. Away." She started her car and soft music poured out of the speakers. She drove out of the parking lot, heading towards the highway.

"What happened?" Skinner pressed, knowing that if he didn't, the chance would slip away from them.

"I got sick of Mulder being an asshole. He calls me his partner and treats me like his secretary. He doesn't give a fuck about what I have to say, and makes that perfectly clear. He's so fucking self righteous, I can't stand it anymore."

"But you seemed to be getting along better." Skinner said it like a question.

"Yeah, well, obviously not." Scully let out a smoke-filled breath, and Skinner tired not to stare too much. He had never seen this side of her before – the smoking, swearing, vindictive woman that sat beside him now. It was eerie how different she was. "That's not fair. A couple of days ago we had a talk, and after that things got much better. But today . . ." She trailed off. They were on the highway now, and Scully was doing better than 70.

"You really should slow down, Scully," Skinner warned. He desperately wanted to know what happened, but getting pulled over wouldn't help anything.

She smiled sardonically and sped up. "That is so fucking typical. First Mulder, now you. What is it about telling me what to do that gets everyone off?"

"Scully, I'm serious. You have to slow down." Skinner gripped the sides of his seat as he watched the speedometer crawl up past 80. "We could get into an accident."

"And who would care? Mulder certainly wouldn't give a fuck."

That was when they hit a patch of black ice. The car started skidding and Scully screamed, frantically turning the wheel the other way. Skinner was shouting at her, telling her that she had to go into the turn, but she wasn't listening and they slammed into the guardrail at 85 miles and hour. Skinner had the vague sensation of his seatbelt cutting into him before slamming his head on the dashboard and as he slipped into the grey, a line from the CD followed him down.

_Driving away from the wreck of the day, and it's finally quiet in my head._

Skinner woke up with a killer headache and a vague suspicion that his bed was moving. Yes, it was definitely moving. And there was a loud siren that slammed into his head with all the grace of a sledgehammer. What the fuck? He tried to sit up, and strong hands pushed him down again.

"Where am I?" he asked, his voice coming out as a barely audible groan.

"You're in an ambulance on your way to Saint Gorge's Hospital. Do you remember what happened?"

It all came back. Scully crying, smoking, driving too fast, hitting the ice. Scully. "Is she okay?" A little louder now. That was better.

"Yes, she'll be fine. Can you tell me your name?"

Skinner could tell that was what the EMT was trained to say, and had no bearing on Scully's health. Again, he tried to sit up, and again he was pushed down again. "Is Scully going to be okay?"

"Yes, but right now we need you to-"

Summoning all of his strength, Skinner surged upward. He almost made it, but apparently there was more than one EMT, because strong hands were everywhere, keeping him down. He was vaguely aware of demanding to see Scully, and then a small prick as somebody injected him with something. The world started to swim, and he slipped back into unconsciousness.

Mulder was sorely tempted to ignore the phone ringing. He was still fuming about Scully, and was perfectly content to stew in his anger for a couple more hours, minimum. But it might be her, and if it was, he wouldn't pass up the chance to piss her off more. It wasn't the nice thing to do, but she didn't seem to be able to tell what the fuck he felt anymore, so what did it really matter?

"If you've decided to come crawling back, I'd say it's still a little early."

"Is this Mr. Fox Mulder?"

_Shit_, he thought. The voice was definitely not Scully's, and suddenly he knew something bad had­ happened to her. His stomach tied itself in knots as he answered, "Yes."

"I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your partner, Agent Scully, was involved in a car accident, and-"

Mulder's brain stopped. Car accident? Oh, god. This was all his fault. If only he hadn't-

" . . . inner was in the car with her. They're both at Saint George's Hospital, so if you could come down . . . "

"I'll be there," he said, grabbing his coat and practically running down to his car. He was halfway there before he realized what the man on the phone had said. Skinner was in the car? Mulder's anger crashed down on him. He was suddenly furious, and suddenly sure that the reason why they had been in an accident had something to do with Skinner's hands and Scully's . . .

Immediately following the anger, the guilt came back. If he hadn't been such an ass, he wouldn't have driven her to run to their boss for sex, and none of this would've happened.

Mulder put on the radio and turned it all the way up. The music drowned out his thoughts and his mind remained blissfully blank for the rest of the ride.

When he arrived at the hospital, he went to the emergency room, grimacing at how well he knew the way. Skinner glanced up from where he was sitting. There was a bandage on his head, but other than that seemed fine. Mulder ignored him and went up to the desk.

"I need to see Dana Scully," he demanded.

The young woman checked something on her computer, then said, "I'm sorry, she's still in surgery."

Surgery? Jesus fucking Christ. "Great. Do you know when she'll be out?"

"I'm sorry, it doesn't say."

"Well could you find out?" Mulder snapped.

"I can try, but-"

"Great. Thanks." Mulder stalked away from the desk and towards Skinner. He was the last man on earth he wanted to talk to, but Mulder had to know what happened. "Well?" he said angrily. "What the hell?"

"I should be asking you the same question," Skinner growled. "What the hell did you say to her? I've never seen her like that before, never even imagined she could be that upset. She was smoking, Mulder. _Smoking_."

Mulder's jaw dropped. Scully? His Scully? Smoking? It couldn't be true. Leaving the fact that she was a doctor aside, what about the Cancer Man? How could she do that?

"Yeah. Exactly." Skinner sighed, and lowered his gaze for a split second. "Care to tell me what happened?"

"I . . . uh . . ." Mulder collapsed in the chair next to his boss. "We were fighting. She said I never listen to her which is such bullshit. I always listen to her."

"Obviously not." Skinner continued to glare at him, and Mulder found the truth slipping out without his permission.

"In all honesty, I woke up in a bad mood. And I took it out on her. It was a shitty thing to do, but nothing that hasn't happened before. I guess she finally wised up, and told me the truth – that I'm a selfish bastard." He felt like crying. This was his fault. It really was. Scully almost died again, and again it was his fault. "Will she be alright?"

"You know as much as I do." Skinner paused as if he wanted to say something else, but didn't. He knew something was off – Mulder and Scully had fought plenty of times before, and nothing like this had ever happened before. There must have been something special about today; he just had no idea what.

A doctor walked into the room and approached them. Mulder immediately stood up and nearly shouted, "Is Scully going to be okay?"

"I take it you're Fox Mulder?" the doctor asked. Mulder nodded. "I'm Dr. Carson. Dana's pretty banged up, but she'll be fine. She has a minor concussion, a broken arm and plenty of bruising. She can go home tomorrow as long as she has someone taking care of her."

"I will," Skinner and Mulder said at the same time. They glared at each other.

"Can she have visitors?" Skinner asked, turning to the doctor. If Mulder wanted to get into another shouting match about Scully, Skinner would be happy to oblige. But right now all he wanted was to see Scully.

"Are either of you family?" Dr. Carson asked.

"I'm her mother. Is my Dana alright?" The men turned to see Maggie Scully jogging over to meet them.

The doctor smiled, relieved that somebody who didn't have testosterone was here. "Yes, she'll be fine. I can take you to see her now."

"Thank you," Maggie said, and followed the doctor through the doors without as much as a glance to either of the men.

Mulder sat back down feeling worse than he had since Scully had been abducted. Maggie would be back later to yell at him, Skinner looked like he was just about to, and Scully had a broken arm and a concussion. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he made no move to stop them. Why bother?

Skinner sighed and sat down next to Mulder. He couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. If it was Mulder's fault, it was also his, and the rest of the government's. As upset as Scully was, she hadn't been making things up. Skinner had taken it for granted that both she and Mulder knew that the government was trying to control both of them, and that was just how it was. As for Mulder, he hadn't been there, but he couldn't imagine him consistently belittling her. It just didn't make sense.

"I'm so sorry," Mulder whispered. "I never meant for this to happen."

"I know you didn't." Skinner tried to articulate his thoughts. He really did. But blaming Mulder was so much easier and, whatever else was true, he had been the one to push her over the edge. And, doctor or not, he was still worried as hell about Scully. Ever since that thing with SR 816, he had a deep distrust of doctors. He wanted to see for himself that she was okay. And he wanted to be the one to take care of her.

Skinner sighed and rested his head in his hand. They had bandaged him up and given him painkillers, which had started to do more than numb the pain. He was suddenly tired, more tired than he had been in a long time. He gratefully slid into the quiet that sleep provided, praying he wouldn't dream.

Review? Please?

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